


To Serve

by FunAndWhimsy



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Multiple Orgasms, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunAndWhimsy/pseuds/FunAndWhimsy
Summary: When the pressure gets too much, when the crown weighs too heavy, when the burdens of his station bring Dimitri to his knees, there is only one thing that relaxes him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Bernadetta von Varley
Series: Kinkmeme Fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844062
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	To Serve

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the FE3H kinkmeme ([original prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2090312#cmt2090312)). Please love my rarepair, please.

Many things are easier after the war, of course; Dimitri's demons, his ghosts, the thing inside him that craves violence, thrives on it, are all quieter away from the chaos of battle, so quiet he can often forget they exist entirely. And it is easier in many ways to rule a kingdom than to lead an army, especially the more Dimitri works to give the people a voice. Dimitri is, more often than not, at ease, or at least what passes for ease relative to the rest of his life. And when things aren't easier, when the voices begin again, when there are too many nights without sleep, too many skipped meals, too little will to care for himself, there is Bernadetta to inform the staff the king isn't to be disturbed tonight and drag him to the bath.

Bernadetta, who he has seen scratching the...chin, he supposes, of an overgrown pitcher plant the way one might adore a beloved cat. Bernadetta, whose paintings of the royal gardens all have secret beasts lurking among the blooms. Bernadetta, who pinned flowers to Hubert's chest, who stood arm in arm with the Death Knight and promised Dimitri if Faerghus gave him amnesty nothing bad would come of it. People try to tell Dimitri he isn't a monster, but Bernadetta - Bernadetta looks at the whole of him, the things he's done, the control he lacks, the haunted, hollow look in his eyes, and says maybe it's true that he's a monster, but even monsters can be deserving of love.

Dimitri can offer her so little in return, though she seems to have no complaints. Her cunt is hot and slick and needy pink for him, and she shivers so sweetly when he drags his tongue up the length of her slit, tasting her. Bernadetta is loud always, unable or unwilling to keep her fears and feelings inside where they can be easily ignored, but she is loudest here, for him, throwing her head back and clutching at Dimitri's damp hair and moaning her pleasure to the empty room. It echoes off the stone walls, so she seems to harmonize with herself as Dimitri works his tongue over her, and he dips his tongue into the greedy clutch of her hole just to hear how her voice deepens, licks his way up to wrap his lips around her clit to make her go high and shrill. 

"I - nnh," she gasps; the better Bernadetta gets at speaking without her anxiety taking over, the more pride Dimitri takes in his ability to render her speechless. He sucks on her clit and relishes in the tensing of her thighs around his head, the twitch of her hips as she struggles to decide whether to push closer or pull away, sensitive, until he can hear the shiver in her moaning and relents. He pushes his tongue between her folds, lapping up the slick there as if it is all he needs to live, and she relaxes just a little against him. Bernadetta is sensitive, needs a careful touch - unless Dimitri intends to overwhelm her - and it sings hot in Dimitri's blood to have to take such care, to know she trusts him to. He can feel her getting wetter for him as he savors her, slicking his lips and chin so he'll be able to smell her need all night, all day if he neglects to wash his face. 

Dimitri pushes his tongue inside her again, burying his face in her folds so he can lick in deep, the way she likes. Her taste is thicker and richer as he pushes deeper, and with his nose pressed against her mound he can barely breathe, her purple curls tickling him when he tries. It's dizzying to serve her like this, like she deserves, and it's absurd that Dimitri is a king because if he had his way he would spend his life right here on his knees. Bernadetta's thighs tense and flex under his hands and he grips her tighter, until she hisses and whines, holds her still so he can take his fill. He is starving and she is the only food for miles, drowning and she is the only hole in the ice to surface through; Dimitri pulls back enough to take a couple deep, gasping breaths, enough to hoist her up so she drapes her legs over his shoulders and opens herself even further to him. She grips his hair more tightly now, steadying herself with only her hold and her back against the wall, and the slight pain in his scalp is exquisite. He thinks - wishes, sometimes - she might pull it out in handfuls, so he will have to appear before his court with great bald patches under his crown, badges of honor.

Bernadetta's ass is soft and plush in his hands, round and fitted perfectly to his palms like she was sculpted for him, and her cunt clenches visibly as he stares, enchanted by the shine of spit and slick on her flushed skin, the hardness of her clit, her hole open and needy. She needs so much, his Bernadetta, and he will give it to her in time. First he swipes his tongue over her again in broad strokes, the mere seconds he took away from her taste too much for him, and wraps his lips around her plump clit, finally ready for him. Mostly ready for him; she cries out, sweet and sensitive, and her thighs tense on his shoulders, her ass flexing in his hands, but she does not try to get away, or shriek quite the way she does when she's too overwhelmed. So Dimitri sucks on her, works his tongue around the slick flesh, scrapes his teeth just to make her arch her back and pull his hair even harder. 

Bernadetta does not gush for him when she comes - she needs his fingers for that, at least - but she bucks her hips against his face, shouts his name so it echoes around the empty bath, shivers and sighs and gasps for him so sweetly. And at his mercy like this, braced on his shoulders with no leverage like this, there is nothing she can do when he just groans and sucks her harder, far from satisfied. Oh, she squirms and bucks and pulls his hair, whines and kicks her heels against his back, but Dimitri only pulls away when he's made her come once more, when the slick dripping down his chin is too tempting to bear, and then only to lick her clean.

"Please," she says, and Dimitri never denies her what she asks, so he pushes to his feet - carefully, so carefully, with her still balanced on his shoulders - and carries her to the bedroom while she laughs, still breathless from coming and twitching from overstimulation, hands wound carefully in his hair and legs wrapped tightly around his shoulders until he drops her onto the bed. She bounces once, and laughs even harder, flushed pink all the way to the tips of her ears and down her beautiful breasts, and Dimitri wonders at how lucky he is, that someone like her prefers to pass her time with monsters.

Dimitri's own need is easy to ignore, when he serves, but when he lowers himself to the bed to kiss her lovely smile his cock brushes the smooth skin of her thigh and he shudders at the spark of it, the force of all his delayed arousal demanding his attention all at once. Bernadetta wraps her arms around his neck and kisses her own taste from his tender lips, her legs spreading wide to make room for him, and she gasps into his mouth when he enters her, sweet and muffled. He's careful, large enough he knows it can be uncomfortable at first, but not slow, because Bernadetta tells him, when he hasn't done his best to take all her words away, how much she loves to have the breath knocked out of her, to feel her body make way for him all in a rush. He waits when he is fully seated, though, while she nips at his lower lip and squirms and clenches and does her best to make him spend early without even trying, waits until she's adjusted to the size of him.

Dimitri fucks her slowly, thoroughly, draws out so she can feel every centimetre of him leaving her, so he can savor every moment of her body trying to keep him inside, and pushes in the same way, a steady, patient rhythm that has her writhing for him, digging her blunt nails into his shoulders. There is nothing like the way she feels around him, the hot, slick clutch of her body welcoming him, begging for him, and Dimitri always wants to draw it out, make it last forever. She breaks their clumsy, messy kiss to throw her head back and moan, expose the graceful line of her neck, framed so perfectly by the longer bits of her hair it might as well be an engraved invitation, and if Dimitri drew up to his knees he could fuck her deeper, harder, but that will have to wait until he's finished biting a bruise into her pretty throat. She whines at the scrape of his teeth, tightens up around him, goes sweet for the pain in a way that makes the bottom drop out of Dimitri's stomach. 

"Please," she says again, arching beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist and trying to urge him faster, harder, to make him put her through the mattress the way she loves. And Dimitri can think of no reason to resist, now that he's marked her, so he sits back on his knees, pulls her close so her hips are propped on his lap, and lets go of his tight control. He could hurt her - has hurt her, and hurt himself, and broken the bed - but she won't blame him for it, and she asks so prettily. Dimitri grips her hips bruising-tight and growls, fucking her so hard she bounces, so hard the headboard bangs against the wall, and Bernadetta rolls her head against the bed and cries his name like he's giving her everything he's ever wanted. She comes for him like that, just like that, before he even remembers to give her his hand, comes crying and bucking and, yes, gushing around him, entirely undone just by his cock and how well he knows what she needs. 

Dimitri pulls out, and she whines at the loss though she knows as well as he does it will be more painful than pleasurable in a matter of seconds, and takes himself in hand, her slick easing the way. His face is still slick with her, her scent all he can smell when he breathes through his nose, and he hunches over the bed, groaning and fucking his hand until he spills over her pretty cunt, her stomach, his own hand, until he is wrung dry. He collapses on top of her and she laughs, wraps her arms around him, takes his weight as if it isn't twice her own at least. 

"You're going to need another bath," she says, pressing a lazy kiss to his temple as he catches his breath.

"No," he says, and rolls so she is sprawled on top of him, his spend sticky between them and their sweat mingling on their rapidly cooling skin. They can revisit the question in the morning, perhaps, but for now he is far too comfortable, and far too content.


End file.
